


touch me, hold your hand to the flame, keep it there as long as you can stand

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Clothed Sex, Genderfluid Character, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, No Touch Sex, Panic Attacks, Touch Aversion, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25093876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I don’t trust you,” Sakusa says, and: “Don’t touch me.”Miya Atsumu does not flinch as grazed joints press against their shoulder, unfolding slowly, grasping onto them. Their breath hitches. Closed eyelids flutter, but don’t open up.“Don’t touch me,” Sakusa repeats, pleadingly, his fingers trembling so hard he thinks he can’t keep this up. Yet, he’s the one putting more pressure into it.Desperately, starvingly, longingly.“I won’t.” Atsumu promises. “I won’t touch ya, Kiyoomi-kun. I won’t.”
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 308





	touch me, hold your hand to the flame, keep it there as long as you can stand

[5]

“I don’t trust you,” Sakusa says, and: “Don’t touch me.”

Miya Atsumu does not flinch as grazed joints press against their shoulder, unfolding slowly, grasping onto them. Their breath hitches. Closed eyelids flutter, but don’t open up.

“Don’t touch me,” Sakusa repeats, pleadingly, his fingers trembling so hard he thinks he can’t keep this up. Yet, he’s the one putting more pressure into it.

Desperately, starvingly, _longingly_.

“I won’t.” Atsumu promises.

“I won’t touch ya, Kiyoomi-kun. I won’t.”

[14]

Skin-to-skin contact is important, Sakusa knows that much. It’s vital to keep the mental and emotional, but also the physical health in top condition. He knows all of this, yet he can’t help but flinch as soon as someone comes too close. He doesn’t do this on purpose, really. He never intended to be like this.

And, yes – he knows quite well how touch starvation feels.

Yet, there’s nothing he can do about it.

He’s tried, and it never led to anything but him having a mental break down. After all, the person he hates the most is himself.

Most people think it’s his germaphobia, which, to some extent, isn’t wrong. He hates germs, he really does. But it’s more than that. He doesn’t know when it started, or what caused it, but his body moves on autopilot as soon as someone comes too close. He moves away. Every time. Even as his mind screams at him to let it happen, to let Bokuto Koutaro wrap an arm around his shoulders, to let Hinata Shouyo give him a high five. He can’t let it happen.

His body doesn’t want that.

And then, there’s Miya Atsumu.

Gosh, he hates that guy.

His lame jokes.

How he tries to please everyone while still being extremely arrogant.

Sakusa thinks he knows guys like him. And he can’t stand them.

He stays away from everyone, but from Miya Atsumu, especially.

He doesn’t want this guy in his life.

[13]

Miya Atsumu is annoying.

Obnoxious.

Disgusting.

He tells him. He always does.

“You’re disgusting.” Sakusa Kiyoomi is stating facts, meanwhile Miya Atsumu puts on his trademark grin and cracks a joke no one but Hinata finds funny. He gives them his best impression of being hurt. No one believes it.

“Disgusting,” Sakusa says.

Miya grins.

But something’s off.

Sakusa just can’t put a finger on what that might be.

[12]

He first learns about how appearance and outward reception isn’t everything when his own issues come crashing down on him.

It’s after a fan event.

Sometimes, he questions himself on why he thought joining a pro volleyball team like the Jackals was a good idea. Even its reception screams _party team._ He knew beforehand, yet he didn’t even try to get into another team. He could’ve tried for Schweiden Adlers, knowing they are a more serious team, but then again … there are his greatest rivals, all in one team. He can’t even imagine playing with Ushijima. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t stand that guy. He’s too blunt. Too confident.

Same goes for Kageyama.

And gosh, that Hoshiumi guy is annoying.

Yet, he still finds himself on a team that holds the record in keeping the most clowns in one place. Even captain Meian is someone he normally wouldn’t take too seriously.

So, after a fan event with too many boisterous, loud people, too many hugs and handshakes and autographs, and embarrassing breakouts from Miya, he finds himself hidden away in a public bathroom stall, desperately trying not to touch anything. He has a hard time keeping himself calm.

His breath hitches, as he hears the door being opened, and someone enters.

Sakusa thinks, whoever that person might be, they must hear his tachycardic pulse running through his shaking body. It’s too much, too loud, too fast.

He tries to stay calm.

And he fails.

“Omi-kun?”

Shit.

“Fuck off.” His voice is trembling. Hopefully, Miya is too dumb to recognise. After all, the guy is the biggest clown of all. Gosh, how he enjoyed the contact with his fans, how he loved being hugged and having fans taking photos with him giving them kisses on their cheeks.

 _Gross_.

All those exchanged germs –

The disgust in him wells.

 _The skin-on-skin contact_.

It’s nothing he could ever enjoy.

( _It’s something he wants so badly that his eyes start burning. Why can’t he be more like them, why can’t he extend a hand and_ touch _, why can’t he enjoy this like any other –_ )

“Ya alright?”

Nothing is alright.

“Fuck you.”

Miya chuckles. “Maybe later. Ya feelin’ unwell? Should I go get some help? Ya need to throw up?”

“No. Go away.”

Miya hums in acknowledgement, yet he doesn’t leave.

“Nah. Don’t wanna. Ya sick?”

“No! God. Fuck off, will you?!”

“Mmm …”

Silence spreads between them.

He hears water running, Miya washing his hands extensively.

Then, someone knocks on the stall’s door.

“Come on, Omi-kun. Open the door. I won’t touch ya, I promise.”

What the _fuck_ ’s that supposed to mean?

“I saw how uncomfortable ya were with all those fans tryin’ to touch ya, Omi-kun,” Miya explains, as if he somehow understood what Sakusa couldn’t say out loud. “I dunno why, but it’s ok, ya know. I won’t touch ya. I promise.”

His promises don’t mean _shit_ , and Sakusa doesn’t believe him a second. Yet, his body moves on its own. Covering his hands with a tissue, he opens the door and steps outside, careful not to touch the wall, or anything at all.

Miya looks at him, and there’s a grin on his face, but it lacks the sharp edge it mostly has.

“Wanna go home?”

“I can’t, asshole,” Sakusa breathes. “Everyone expects me to … _party_ with them.” He throws the tissue away and grabs the bottle of hand sanitizer he carries around 24/7, to keep his hands clean, even though he didn’t touch anything.

His hands burn as he rubs it into his skin. He refuses to acknowledge the stinging pain it causes.

After all, the day drained him so much, he feels _disgusting_.

There’s nothing he wants more than a shower, and to scrub his skin until he feels completely clean and void of any physical contact.

Miya’s gaze is fixed on him, but it lacks his usual arrogant demeanour. This might be the very first time Sakusa sees him in a kind of serious state. It’s disturbing.

“Meian-san is kinda drunk, ya know. The others are enjoyin’ themselves. Nobody noticed ya went missin’, Omi-omi.”

“Mh, is that so,” Sakusa muses.

He would never admit it, but shit, it hurts. He’s – not important. Just as interchangeable as someone who’s incapable of forming a bond with others due to his aversion towards being touched. He deserves this, right?

( _He doesn’t want it_.)

“Lemme take ya home, mh?”

“No, thank you.”

“I won’t touch ya.”

“As if I’d let you,” Sakusa snorts. He shakes his head and makes his way towards the door, intent on leaving. Doesn’t matter if he’s here or not, right? Nobody noticed.

It doesn’t matter, really.

“Kiyoomi-kun.”

He freezes, feeling a tingling sensation running down his spine.

Wide eyed, he turns around, staring at Miya who just dared to call him by his given name out of the blue. He sure got used to him calling Sakusa dumb nicknames, but this – this is just too much.

“What the _fuck_ –“

“Kiyoomi-kun, it’s alright,” Miya says again. He looks at him with undivided attention and suddenly, Sakusa feels as if nobody was ever as close to him as this disgusting guy standing in front of him.

“Don’t you ever fucking _dare_ to call me by my given name again,” he hisses before storming out of the bathroom. Enough is enough.

He leaves without saying goodbye to anyone.

[11]

He can’t stop thinking about the conversation.

At first, Sakusa doesn’t understand why. It’s not until two days later, as he’s lying awake at 2am, staring at the ceiling of his apartment that he understands what seemed off about all of this.

Miya Atsumu had _cared_ for him, hadn’t he?

And damn, he was so careful. What did he mean, promising he wouldn’t touch Sakusa? Of course, he wouldn’t. Sakusa would’ve never let him, but still.

Everyone knew about his germaphobia, but him hating to be touched, or to touch others, was something most people didn’t know of. Most people just assume it’s him being disgusted by germs, but really, it’s more than that.

In the security and darkness of his bedroom, Sakusa puts out a hand, stretching it towards the ceiling as if he tried to grab something – _someone_.

He tries to imagine touching someone.

His heart skips a beat.

There’s so much yearning inside of him, it makes him nauseous.

He wants to reach out, to touch, to pull him close, rest his head on Miya’s shoulder and let –

 _Oh no_ , Sakusa thinks, hastily stuffing his hand under his covers again. _No, no, no_.

He knows he’s projecting his issues on someone else, again.

There’s no reason for him thinking that being close to Miya Atsumu is desirable. But he knows he’s prone to that, he _always_ does that.

There was a time when he thought being touched by his former teammate Komori might be nice. But it never happened. He never asked. Maybe he was too scared, or maybe he didn’t trust him enough, Sakusa doesn’t know.

Komori was never anything but nice to him, but he is a blabbermouth. Sakusa doesn’t want anyone to know about his issues. It raises too much questions.

And he definitely doesn’t want anyone to pity him.

As he’s slowly falling asleep, there’s only one thing occupying his mind, and that is Miya’s careful smile, and after all, his voice.

_I won’t touch ya. I promise._

[10]

“What did you mean?”

“Huh?”

They’re the last ones in the locker room. Training was exhausting, even more so as Sakusa had a hard time concentrating.

Ever since realising his treacherous mind was tricking him into thinking touching Miya was something he _wants_ , he feels – off. Off game, off functioning like a responsible human being, off _everything._

“You said you wouldn’t touch me,” Sakusa elaborates matter-of-factly. “What did you mean by that?”

Miya blinks. There it is again, his somewhat serious expression.

It’s as if the dumb, overly dramatic façade he keeps up is all fake. As if he isn’t stupid, at all, as if he just disguises his true traits for unknown reasons.

Sakusa _hates_ it.

He somewhat knew Miya couldn’t be _that_ dense. He isn’t such a good setter for nothing. One of the most needed traits in a good setter is their empathy. He must know what his spikers were up to, if they were feeling well, all of that stuff.

Miya just never let it show.

“Ya don’t like to be touched,” Miya explains while he’s stuffing his used towel into his bag. “I noticed how yer flinchin’ away every time someone’s tryin’ to. Figured ya don’t like it.”

Sakusa’s dumbfounded.

“I – I don’t.”

It’s the first time ever he admits it out loud, and it … doesn’t feel all too good, if he’s honest with himself.

Miya gives him a lopsided grin. “Yeah, it’s ok, ya know.”

“Huh?”

He blinks at Sakusa as if his confusion was something he didn’t expect.

“It’s ok?” Miya repeats. “You don’t hafta like to be touched, ya know. Isn’t a must.”

Sakusa’s staring at him, trying to figure out what the hot feeling welling inside his stomach is.

It bursts out of him before he can, actually.

“It’s _not_ okay!” He suddenly yells. Miya stares at him wide-eyed.

“You dumb idiot have no idea how it is! I hate it! It’s not like I don’t _want_ to touch people, you fucking dumbass, it’s just – it’s just …”

His anger deflates as fast as it took over.

Shit, he already said too much.

Miya takes a few moments before he answers.

“So … ya wanna touch others. Or wanna be touched. But it doesn’t feel good for ya?”

“… No. It doesn’t.”

Why Sakusa answers, he doesn’t know.

He should just leave, but his feet feel as if they were cemented into the floor.

“Any reason for that?”

“… I … I don’t know.”

“Can I help ya?”

“Huh?”

Miya Atsumu sucks his lower lip between his teeth, looking at him like he’s thinking. Sakusa wants to tell him to stop, for it might let his bird brain explode, but not a word comes out of his mouth.

This can’t be real, right?

“I can – I dunno. Help ya, if ya wanna. Dunno how, tho. Maybe … we can practise?”

“Practise _touching_ you?!” Sakusa lets out an ugly laugh, but Miya doesn’t even flinch.

He just nods.

“Yeah. Might help ya, I dunno. Only if ya wanna, of course.”

“No way,” Sakusa retorts.

And with that, he grabs his stuff and leaves.

The idea, though, settles into his thoughts and refuses to leave him alone. He cannot stop thinking about it.

[9]

It takes him three weeks to bring the topic up again.

Three weeks of not getting enough sleep, of lying awake at night and imagining what it might feel like. To touch Miya, to let himself be wrapped into a hug.

His arms are nice, they really are.

Maybe it’s not as disgusting as he thinks.

He needs those three weeks, though. He needs all that time settling into thinking it might be worth a try.

Although, Sakusa doesn’t know if Miya is really trustworthy.

He somewhat expects the whole team to know the day after the incident, but nobody says a word. After all, Miya might have kept his mouth shut.

It’s – not too bad, Sakusa assumes.

( _It’s appealing, really_.)

So, three weeks after that, he tries to stay behind. Miya always is the last one to leave the locker room, for whatever reason, so it’s not _that_ hard to do so.

As soon as Hinata and Bokuto leave, being as loud and boisterous as always, he waits until the door falls shut, and turns towards Miya.

“I considered your proposal.”

“Huh?” Miya startles, looking up from a journal he kept writing in. What he writes down, Sakusa doesn’t know.

“Your proposal. Of … trying to help me.”

“With yer touch aversion?”

Sakusa flinches at the words. Miya is right, though. Of course, he is right.

“Mh,” Sakusa hums, not quite content with looking at his setter.

“Oh. Ok. Yeah, we can do that.”

Sakusa looks up, their gazes meet. Suddenly, he feels like a dog that was chasing after the postman for its entire life and, out of nowhere, managed to get them. What should he do with his _postman_ , now? How to proceed from here on?

Miya is the first one to break into a grin.

It’s not that kind of grin Sakusa despises, no. It’s the kind probably very few people get so see. Kind of vulnerable, open, honest. It makes Miya’s face so much more beautiful.

Sakusa’s chest tightens.

_Not good._

“If ya wanna, we can meet up. And … just sit beside each other. And ya can try to touch my shoulder or whatever.”

“I won’t come over to your place.”

It’s probably dirty and chaotic. As far as Sakusa knows, he lives with a roommate. His brother, maybe.

“Yeah, I figured that much,” Miya laughs. It totally _doesn’t_ send shivers down his spine, it _doesn’t_.

“I can come over to yer place, if ya comfortable enough with that, Omi-kun.”

“Mh. Yes. Yes, maybe.”

[8]

This was a bad idea.

It’s Sunday evening, and Miya Atsumu sits beside him on his loveseat in the living room. Everything is on spot, as clean as possible. Not that Sakusa had been cleaning his apartment more thoroughly than usual, but … well, yes. He had.

He’s _nervous_ , okay, let him breathe.

His television is on, but he set it on silent. They both are staring at the screen.

It’s horribly uncomfortable.

“So,” Miya starts after what feels like an eternity. “How yer feelin’, Omi-kun?”

“Huh?”

Miya turns his head towards him, eyeing him closely.

“Yer tense. Should I leave?”

“No!” Sakusa tries to calm down. It’s embarrassing enough.

There’s a safety distance of a metre between them, and it still feels too close. God, he _hates_ this so much.

“Can I do somethin’ to make ya feel better?”

 _Kiss me_ , Sakusa thinks. It’s an unwanted thought, though, because he can’t even think of how that should work. It’s prone to disaster. It’s not right. He’s projecting his issues on Miya, that’s all. He doesn’t harbour any feelings, right?

( _Right?!_ )

“Don’t – don’t tell anyone,” Sakusa croaks after a while. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll …”

“I won’t,” Miya cuts him short. “’s this what yer worryin’ about? Ok, imma give ya somethin’ to work with.”

Sakusa looks at him with wide eyes, as Miya turns his torso towards him, a stern expression on his face.

“I’m genderfluid.”

“You are … what?”

“Genderfluid.”

Sakusa has no fucking idea what _genderfluid_ means. He just stares at Miya, until he cares to elaborate, seemingly getting that, whatever secret he just revealed, Sakusa doesn’t understand.

“Ya know … if ya feel like the body yer born in is _right_ for ya, yer cis. And if it doesn’t, yer most likely transgender, right. And I … I feel like I’m male, ok, but there are times in which I feel female. And then, I like to act up to that. Wearin’ dresses and stuff. Makes me feel like … like everything’s alright, ya know. Hard to explain, but yeah, that’s my secret.”

“You –,“ Sakusa cuts himself short. He doesn’t understand a single bit of what Miya was telling him.

“I feel like I’m female, on some days. Feel like I’m neither male nor female, at some others. Am content with feelin’ male, most of the time, though.”

That was totally _not_ what Sakusa was about to say, but ok, still better than _you wear dresses in your free time?_

He feels like an idiot.

Maybe he underestimated Miya, after all.

“Does anyone know?”

“My brother ‘n my parents, yeah.”

“Oh.”

This _sure_ is a big secret. Maybe Miya doesn’t want anyone to know about this just as much as Sakusa wants his issues being kept a secret. Suddenly, he feels a bit more at ease. He tries to remember what he knows about … not fitting the ‘norm’.

As someone who’s not heterosexual by any means, he should know, but he doesn’t, and it bugs him.

Still, he asks: “What are your pronouns, then?”

Surprised, Miya blinks at him.

“Uh … wow, ok. Uhm … if ya could refer to me as _they/them_ when we’re alone, that’d be great?”

“Alright,” Sakusa says.

He _feels_ Miya vibrating, and when he shoots him a look, he sees the guy … no, the _person_ beside him grinning so widely and happily, it makes his heart skip a beat.

They do not touch that day. They don’t even attempt to.

Sometimes, sharing secrets brings people closer than physical contact could ever do.

[7]

“Oh.”

A week later, they meet up again. Or, at least, that was what Sakusa was thinking. He’d meet up with Miya Atsumu, setter of Black Jackals, right? Nothing unusual.

But right now, he thinks he never even really _saw_ Miya as the person they are.

Their cheeks are flushed, and they seem kind of nervous, but their skin glows like they feel content, looking like … _this_.

Wearing a floaty high-waist skirt that somehow gives them a very tiny waist. Sakusa gets the feeling that, if he tried, he could wrap his hands around their slim waist.

Miya also chose to wear a low-cut blouse that reveals them wearing a lacy bra. Their blond hair falls onto their forehead in soft waves.

Sakusa can’t help but stare.

“Can I come in?”

“Oh!”

Sakusa takes a step aside and lets them in.

They even _smell_ different. It’s a light scent, something sweet and faintly flowery.

Sakusa didn’t know he needed to see Miya Atsumu in a skirt, yet here he is.

He watches them getting out of their shoes and putting on a pair of guest slippers.

He _definitely_ doesn’t stare at their bare thighs as they bend down a little.

They do the same as last week, sitting down on his leather loveseat. This time, there’s no television to stare at. The silence isn’t as deafening as the last time, though. Sakusa tries to will his pulse to slow down, while Miya clears their throat.

“Is … is this okay?”

“What?”

Miya chuckles lightly, but it’s evident how nervous they are.

“Me looking like this. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“Uh … no.”

Miya stares at him as if they wait for him to elaborate, and he _really_ tries to compliment them. He tries.

“It looks … ok.”

Who is he kidding, he’s _awful_ at this.

They blink at him before bursting into laughter. Sakusa bites his lip and tries not to stare at them too much. He didn’t know Miya Atsumu could look more attractive than they usually do, but … they just proved him wrong.

“Thanks, Omi-omi!”

“Mhhh,” he mutters.

It takes a while for them to calm their nerves.

“I’m sorry I made our last meeting all about me?” Miya starts, giving him a shy smile. It’s like their personality shifted a little, making them seem a bit more … vulnerable.

Even though Sakusa tried to educate himself, he feels like only getting to know them more can help him fully understand what being genderfluid really means – especially for Miya. As for now, all he can do is accept them and not be a dick.

He hopes he’s better at this than at giving compliments.

“So … should we try? The touching, I mean.”

Suddenly, Sakusa’s chest tightens, but not because of the good looks of the person next to him. He kind of totally forgot about this the second he opened the door to his apartment.

“I – yes. We can do that.”

“Alright, alright,” Miya chuckles.

They sit in silence, no one really making a move.

It’s Miya again, who speaks first.

“There’s more than one way to approach this, I think. Either, ya set the pace and try to … get closer, however you want- Or ya lemme do this, and I try to keep a slow pace and ya tell me off when it’s too much.”

If there’s one thing Sakusa knows, then it’s that he definitely doesn’t want Miya to take the lead. Even the thought stresses him out.

“I’ll do it.”

“Alright.”

They shuffle a bit, finding a comfortable position, and wait.

It takes Sakusa five minutes to even _try_ and get a bit closer. His body already burns, because he _knows_ what is about to happen. He can’t believe he forgot what all this was about. His touch aversion. His inability to behave and feel like a normal human being, like anyone else would, like –

“Breathe, Kiyoomi-kun …” Miya whispers softly, as if they were able to feel how much he panicked internally.

This time, he doesn’t scold them for calling him by his given name. Somehow, it helps him calm down.

He nods silently, and scoots closer.

The distance between them roughly measures about five centimetres. He stares at Miya’s legs and suddenly, he feels himself blushing furiously.

Where _the fuck_ is he supposed to touch them?!

Miya doesn’t move, so it’s all up to him. He extends his hand and he _just can’t think_ of where to put his fucking hand. Forcing down all his anxiety, he closes his eyes and just – reaches out.

There’s a smacking sound, as if a flat palm just met bare flesh.

Miya yelps but doesn’t say anything.

Sakusa wills his eyes to open up, feeling his hand burn like he just grabbed hot coals and _oh_.

He slapped their thigh just a _teensy_ bit too close to their crotch.

“Shit,” he curses and rips his burning hand off them only mere seconds later. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – Sorry!!”

“No!” Miya retorts, extending their hands as if to grab Sakusa’s, but they stop before they actually touch him. “Put that hand back, right now!! It’s alright! You did it, Kiyoomi-kun! You did it!”

He stares at those amber eyes, his pulse racing through his veins and he doesn’t know what to do. Maybe Miya sees his dilemma. Maybe they pity him, Sakusa doesn’t know. But they hold his gaze, as they reach out for his hand.

“Can I touch you?”

_No._

“… go on”, he rasps.

The touch is so tender, still it feels like it’s too much. Sakusa’s hand begins to prickle and he’s not sure if it’s uncomfortable or not. But he lets them take his hand down to their bare thigh again, let’s them settle it on their skin.

It feels so warm, soft and yet muscular. He gulps, feeling the anxiety and the aversion rising in his chest, but he _just can’t give up like this_. He needs to try. He wants this, he _wants_ to be closer.

He wants to be touched, and to touch.

He hates himself for being unable to.

It only lasts mere seconds before he jerks his hands away, yet Miya still smiles at him so proudly, it makes his heart ache inside of his ribcage.

“You did it, Kiyoomi-kun,” they repeat. “I’m so proud of you!”

And they sound like they mean it.

[6]

“Are you alright?”

Sakusa blinks at Meian. He doesn’t get the question.

“I … am, yes.”

Meian nods, his gaze wandering off.

“Sorry for asking, but I got the feeling something was … off between Atsumu-kun and you. I thought he might’ve done something to annoy you again.”

Sakusa fights the urge to correct his captain. After all, Miya is not out to the team. He cannot correct the pronouns they’re using for Miya, right?

“No,” he answers. “Nothing happened.”

Meian looks at him as if he doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press the issue.

It’s nothing.

It’s nothing.

Its – _nothing_ , really.

It’s just that Sakusa can’t stop thinking about the feeling of Miya’s soft skin on his palm, and it’s driving him crazy.

[5]

„I don’t trust you,” Sakusa says, and: „Don’t touch me.”

And he means it.

Yet, _he’s_ the one extending a hand. His fingers tremble, skin scraped, abrasions on the backside of his hand, on his knuckles, on his wrists. _Disgusting_ , he thinks, but he keeps going, slowly, unsteadily.

He extends his bruised hand, and the person he reaches for doesn’t move an inch. They even go as far as to not even blink, keeping their eyes closed, breathing as lowly as possible.

Sakusa doesn’t notice.

His mind is too occupied, panic flooding his pulsating veins.

It’s worse this time.

“Don’t touch me,” he says again, his voice cracking halfway through, sounding too high-pitched, as if it didn’t belong to him.

Miya Atsumu does not flinch as grazed joints press against their shoulder. Their breath hitches. Closed eyelids flutter, but don’t open up.

“Don’t touch me,” Sakusa repeats, pleadingly, his fingers trembling so hard he thinks he can’t keep this up. Yet, he’s the one putting more pressure into it.

Desperately, starvingly, _longingly_.

“I won’t.” Atsumu promises, voice just below a rough whisper. They give a small smile to no one in particular, knowing quite well Sakusa is staring them down while most likely forgetting to blink.

It’s his anxiety. Atsumu knows.

And they keep still, as trembling fingers flutter upon their clothed shoulder.

“I won’t touch you, Kiyoomi-kun. I won’t.”

[4]

“Hey, Kiyoomi-kun,” a voice whispers softly.

“Mh?”, he mutters, half asleep.

They’ve put a movie on this time, Sakusa reaching a hand out, whenever he felt like it. Their shoulders were touching for about an hour, before it became too much. He still fells the tingling sensation on his skin, even though he’s barely awake.

“Can you … can you call me _Tsumu_?”

Sakusa doesn’t know what to say. It feels – too much. Too close. Sometimes, words are more intimate than touches, right?

He doesn’t know if he can do this.

[3]

“Miya-“

“ _Tsumu_.”

“No,” Sakusa breathes, feeling his heart skip a beat. He can’t do this. It’s –too much. “No, Miya-“

“Kiyoomi,” they whisper. Atsumu sits close to him, though they didn’t move. It was Sakusa, all Sakusa’s doing. He hadn’t realised. The close proximity makes his thigh burn with the anticipated touch, though he cannot tell if it’s a positive or a negative feeling. He simply doesn’t know.

“… Tsumu,” he repeats, tasting the name on his tongue like some foreign food. Not exactly pleasant, but interesting; not wholly tasty, but maybe, with some time, with more experimenting … Sadly, he isn’t the type to experiment. Never was, never will be.

Still.

Still, he keeps going.

“Tsumu.” He shudders as he watches his leg move toward theirs. Only a few centimetres between them. Five. Four. Closer, closer, _closer_.

“Kiyoomi,” they sigh, and it sounds like a plea as much as content bliss, as they touch.

The burning sensation creeps up his leg, burning through his stomach up into his chest, moving downwards again and bundling up in his abdomen, where-

His knee jerks away. Hastily, he scoots away from them.

Miya Atsumu is composed enough to not scream in surprise. He sees the pain in their eyes, though he knows they try not to let it show.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry –“

“No, no, stop, hey …”

They get as close as they assume Sakusa feels content with.

Suddenly, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve Miya … no, _Tsumu_ treating him like this. He doesn’t, right? He doesn’t deserve this kindness.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why you try to help me, I don’t deserve you –“

“What, no!”

They move a bit closer, their warm breath ghosting against Sakusa’s cheek.

They stare at each other, wide eyed.

It’s Tsumu who moves first.

Suddenly, it’s like all the patience is worn off. They look desperate, sad, and so, so longingly at him.

“Kiyoomi,” they breathe. “Please … can I kiss ya?”

Sakusa feels his skin prickling, but he _wants_ this. He really does, no matter what his body, his psyche have to say in this.

He just nods and feels oh-so soft lips pressing on his. It’s as if he suddenly understands why Tsumu bears with him.

And why he bears with them.

And why they’re trying so hard to make this work.

It’s not like his defence reactions suddenly fade into nothing. It’s not like his body suddenly is compliant and can purely enjoy the touch.

But its easier than he’d thought, especially considering he just had kind of a meltdown over touching Tsumu’s leg with his.

[2]

“I like you,” they whisper.

It’s just them, sitting in their locker room after a vicious training session. Both are drained and exhausted, and they sit within a safety distance of two metres, but right now, it doesn’t really matter.

Sakusa’s pulse _does_ things.

“You … what?”

“I like you,” they repeat, voice a bit steadier, louder. “I liked you before, but … even more so, now.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, it makes a lot more sense. Sakusa doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Mh,” Tsumu hums.

Sakusa doesn’t realise he’s picking at the skin on his hands again. Suddenly, he gets up and takes a few steps towards Tsumu.

“Is that why you tried to … help me with my touch aversion?”

Tsumu looks as if they were about to scream at him, but they manage to calm down.

“No! ’s just … I saw ya were feelin’ unwell, ya know. I … kinda liked ya, but I also got the feelin’ we both were … different. And I wanted to make ya feel better.”

“You mean it?”

Sakusa’s not sure why he asks. Even after almost a week passed, it’s like he’s still able to feel Tsumu’s lips against his.

( _He still remembers the mental break down he had afterwards, with him brushing his teeth for half an hour and washing his hands and Tsumu curling into a ball on his loveseat because his reaction sure hurt them_.)

He dreams of this at night. He wants to wrap his arms around them and pull them close.

Maybe he isn’t projecting his issues on someone else, this time. It’s not the same as with Komori back in high school. This time, it feels like … more.

He wants this to work out. He really does.

“Yeah,” Tsumu croaks. Their eyes shimmer as if they were on the verge of crying. Sakusa takes a deep breath and gets a little closer. Tsumu’s still sitting on the bench.

“Can you do something for me, then? Can you … not move?”

“Not move?”

“Yes. Please just … stay still, will you?”

Tsumu nods in bewilderment, yet still they do as they are asked.

“Don’t touch me,” Sakusa clarifies as he stands up. “Whatever you do … don’t touch me.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

 _I don’t trust you_ , he thinks. Still, he leans down and firmly presses his lips on Tsumu’s.

They do as promised, even though Sakusa feels them twitch beneath his touch.

It makes breathing a little easier.

He breaks their kiss, and turns away, face red and flushed.

“See you on Sunday, Tsumu.”

Sakusa can’t see it, but Tsumu beams at him like they never heard anything better than that.

[1]

_I don’t trust you_ , he’d said, but after all, it’s a blatant lie.

Maybe, out of all the people he has to deal with on a regular basis, Miya Atsumu is the only one he trusts to a certain extent.

How this happened, though, he doesn’t know.

Yet, it’s Tsumu who’s lying on his bed. Their skirt is in disarray, showing more skin than it does hide, and Sakusa can’t help but stare.

They’re _beautiful._

Tsumu, on the other hand, sighs deeply, shuffling and stretching their legs. The fabric slides up even more, as they pull one leg up on the mattress.

Sakusa stares, feeling his cheeks flaming up.

It’s been months since all of this started. Months of trying to get closer, of helping him dealing with his anxiety and touch aversion and germaphobia.

Months of meeting up in private.

Of going out together.

Like now, as they’re back from an evening at a bar outside the city, Atsumu wearing a pretty skirt and make up, Sakusa _trying_ to not wear a face mask throughout the date ( _he failed_ ).

“You should keep your legs closed,” he croaks, still staring. “It’s inappropriate.”

Tsumu giggles, opening one eye, looking at him with a suggestive gleam in their eyes. “Ya don’t like my panties? Thought they might be of yer taste, Kiyoomi-kun.”

They are, but Sakusa would rather cut off his own tongue than admit that.

He’s just standing there, staring at the thin, black lace, revealing more than it’s hiding. He knows Miya Atsumu can be pretty shameless, but he would’ve never guessed he would stare at their crotch like this. After weeks and weeks and weeks of forcing to get closer, even after _kissing,_ he still never thought it might lead up to this.

They never even attempted to do something like this, but it’s not like he didn’t occasionally think of … doing more.

“You’re drunk,” he muses.

“Am not,” Tsumu retorts. “My beer was non-alcoholic.”

“Is that so.” Sakusa shakes his head, trying to pry his gaze away from the smooth, pristine skin. It’s harder than he’d thought. Also, there is a feeling welling up deep in his guts. He just can’t put a name on it.

It’s overwhelming.

“What ‘bout you?”

“I’m sober”, Sakusa answers. _As sober as I can be while drinking in this sight._

He _wants_ but – what exactly that is, he cannot fathom.

“’m glad,” Tsumu sighs. They give him a lazy grin, spreading their legs a little more, looking closely at how Sakusa’s face reddens even more.

“Is this okay?” they ask, the teasing tone leaving their voice for a split second. “Should I cover up?”

“No! Don’t!”, he hastily croaks, taking a step closer to the bed. He doesn’t know why, or what he intends to do. He recalls all the times he tried to touch them, and how it wasn’t exactly easy, or pleasing.

Whatever might happen now, it’s almost exclusively prone to disaster.

“Are ya uncomfortable?”

“No.”

Sakusa takes a deep breath. Be bites his lip, chewing it while he tries to will his heart to beat slower – to no avail.

“Can … can you spread … your legs further?” He asks tentatively.

Tsumu blinks in surprise. Opens their mouth, closes it. Then, a smile spreads on those beautiful lips, bare of any teasing. They put up their other leg, then, spreading them wide open, only for Sakusa to see. His throat goes completely dry.

The black lace is just the right amount of see-through. He can see so much, but at the same time, not enough. He wants to extend a hand, caressing the smooth skin of their inner thigh, up to their panties, and move them away. He wants to _see_.

He just – can’t.

“Tsumu,” he whispers.

“Kiyoomi?” Tsumu’s voice is just as hoarse as his. And he can _see_ that whatever is happening right now, it affects them.

He sees the thin fabric tighten, and it makes his gut clench just the right amount.

He will _not_ moan.

“Can you –“ He clears his throat, staring intently as the body in front of him shivers slightly with excitement. “Can you … move that aside, that …”

He can’t find the right words, gulps, vaguely moving his hand toward their legs.

“Kiyoomi-kun,” Tsumu sighs. “Do you want me to take off my panties?”

“ _Yes_ , please.”

Shit, he definitely moaned.

But Tsumu doesn’t tease. They visibly take a deep breath and reach down, hooking their fingers into the waistband of their underpants, and pull them down.

Their almost fully erect cock bounces free immediately, only covered up by the fabric of Tsumu’s skirt as they lie down again.

“Move that aside,” Sakusa says. “Your skirt. I … want to see.”

Tsumu does as he wishes, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, cheeks flushed.

“What do you want me to do, Kiyoomi?” They ask.

Sakusa thinks he has never heard anything more arousing than that.

The thing he wants to do the most is – getting on the bed, getting between their legs, touch them, make them feel good. But his body doesn’t move. He doesn’t want this possibility of being close go to waste, after all. So, he gulps, and complies.

“Your hand”, he croaks. “Put it on your leg. Stroke … stroke your inner thigh.”

“Is that what you would want to do, Kiyoomi?” The teasing is back in their voice, but it’s delicate, as if they knew how hard he fights against running away right now. He has never been intimate with anyone. This is the closest he ever got.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Stroke your thigh.”

He watches as Tsumu follows his orders.

Taking one step closer won’t hurt, right?

Sakusa needs to see what it does to Tsumu.

He needs to see those goose bumps on their flesh.

Tsumu shudders as they stroke up higher, just beneath their crotch. Calloused fingers gently touch the smooth skin.

“Where should I touch myself, Kiyoomi? Tell me …”

He wants it everywhere. On their cock, stroking themselves, wants their fingers between toned buttcheeks, teasing their hole, wants –

“You’re … erection …,” he almost chokes on the word, feeling his face growing even hotter. His own pants feel like they’re too tight for him. His cock is so hard at this point, it almost hurts.

“Touch it.”

Tsumu smirks and their fingers ghost upwards, dancing over their skin, and then, they leisurely touch themselves. Their body shivers.

“Grab yourself,” Sakusa orders breathlessly.

Tsumu complies without a word, hand grabbing their cock.

“Like this?”

“Yeah …”

“Ya like me bein’ good for ya, don’t ya?”, Tsumu huffs. They don’t move, seeing as Sakusa didn’t say what they should do next.

“I … I do …” He gulps, coming even closer, looking down on their twitching cock, and impatiently trembling fingers. “I do like it.”

“Then … do ya like me pleasin’ myself while imagining yer the one who’s touchin’ me?”

“ _Yeah_ – “

Tsumu hums ins response.

“Stroke yourself. Slowly.”

A moan escapes their mouth as they do how they’re told.

The muscles in their forearm quiver. Their thumb moves upwards, touching their leaking tip, spreading precum on it.

Sakusa almost lets out a moan, too.

“You like this?” He whispers.

Tsumu only groans in response.

“Faster,” Sakusa orders, voice strained. “But not too much, you hear me?”

He itches to touch himself, but he doesn’t. Not now. He’s not in the shower. Last time he’s washed his hands had been half an hour ago and he touched Tsumu’s shoulder after it, so he really can’t –

As if Tsumu saw his focus slipping away, they sigh breathily, pleading. “Kiyoomi … Kiyoomi, please, can I move faster?”

His attention snaps back to spread legs, a leaking cock, a flushed face.

“No,” he croaks. “Not yet. Your other hand … put it between your legs.”

Tsumu’s eyes widen, but they do as they’re asked, fingers trembling.

“Spread your legs wider.”

They laugh breathlessly. “Ya like the view?”

“I do,” Sakusa answers slowly. “I do … like it. Your … your hole’s twitching, Tsumu. Are you into this? Do you like to be ordered around?”

He’s still standing there, in front of his bed, not daring to move even one inch. By the tight feeling of his pants, and the damp wetness he feels, he knows he enjoys this probably even more than Tsumu, even though he would never admit this out loud.

His own cock is leaking like he’s about to come into his pants.

“I … yeah …” The bedsheets rustle silently, as they shuffle a little to gain better access.

“What … what should I do?”

“Tease it a little. No spit. No pushing in. Only teasing.”

“Ya wouldn’t put yer fingers inside?” Tsumu shakily asks. Sakusa can see how they twist and twitch, Cock flushed and red and _leaking_ so much it starts dripping on their propped-up skirt.

“Not now. You’ve been naughty, Tsumu, for showing me all of this. You wanted to tease me, right?”

Sakusa’s hand twitches towards his own cock, but no, _no_ , he will _not_ touch himself, not yet, not when Tsumu lies in front of him like this, looking as if they’re _this_ close to lose their cool.

“Yeah,” they moan, hand picking up a faster pace. They tease their asshole just about right, but their hand moves faster and faster. “Yeah I … I wanted ya to see me like this … imagined ya touchin’ me while I jerked myself off at home …”

A rush of heat floods his veins, making his cock jump with arousal. It’s painful at this point. He’s breathing hard, mouth dry, hands twitching so badly. He wants – something. Anything.

“I don’t think you deserve to come just yet, Tsumu …”

“Kiyoomi, _please_ …” Their eyes glisten, cheeks flushed so hard, clothes and hair in disarray. Everything about them is alluring.

Sakusa wants to touch.

Sakusa wants to watch them.

He wants to …

“Be good for me, Tsumu …” He orders, but it’s too much, it’s the last push over.

Suddenly, Tsumu squints their eyes shut. Their whole body quivers, a strained moan leaving their mouth.

Their cock twitches just as hard as they come, cum spurting over their hand, their skirt, their blouse.

“Kiyoomi – “, they groan, and, again: “Kiyoomi …”

At this point, Sakusa’s panting just as hard as them. He watches them calming down, relaxing into the sheets, after they made a mess out of themselves.

It’s single-handedly the most arousing thing he’s ever seen.

Seconds, minutes pass, Tsumu watching him silently.

“Kiyoomi?”

Sakusa let’s out a breathy sigh in response, fingers twitching, body shaking. Tsumu hums lightly. “Can ya do somethin’ for me?”

“What?”

“Can ya … put a hand on yer cock? Just … squeeze it a bit through yer pants. Can ya do this for me?”

“My – ?”

“Yeah …”

Light-headed as he feels, he _knows_ touching himself now will push him over the edge. Yet, he can’t argue with Tsumu. He _wants_ this. Wants to lose himself completely.

“Tsumu?”

“Mh?” They sigh.

“Come here. Do it … do it for me …”

Their eyes widen. One hand still covered in their own sticky release, they sit up, moving their other hand to his crotch. They look up to him, watch him closely.

“Yer sure?”

“ _Touch me_ ,” he says, harsher than planned. But Tsumu doesn’t mind. They shoot him a tiny grin, leaning forward.

“Tell me if it’s too much, Kiyoomi … I will stop immediately, then …”

Instead of their hand, they lean their face forward, breath ghosting over the bulge in his pants. Sakusa can’t really feel it, but just knowing it’s there almost sends him over.

Then, they graze their teeth over his erection, softly enough to not make him come, but hard enough to let him _feel_ they’re using their mouth on him.

Sakusa’s mind is too occupied with the view of Tsumu going down on him, even though it’s through his pants, even though they just came, and their hand is still covered in drying up cum. He’s too occupied to get anxious.

“Kiyoomi …” They sigh lustfully, mouthing over his cock, before they put up their clean hand, slowly, as if giving him the chance to make them stop, if he wanted to.

( _He doesn’t_.)

Sakusa closes his eyes as Tsumu puts their hand on his cock and give it a firm squeeze.

He doesn’t open them as a strangled moan slips out of his mouth.

Doesn’t open them as the tension gets too much, the arousal overwhelming.

Doesn’t open them as his hand reaches out, grabbing whatever he can get hold of of Tsumu now, as his knees buckle, and he grasps their shoulder for support as he comes into his pants.

[0]

He only gets a _tiny_ mental break down after. And he _only_ showers for half an hour. Still, he feels not too bad, and when he asks Tsumu to stay overnight, they smile at him like they know how much of an act of faith this is.

Because he loves them, right?

And they love him.

[+1]

“Tsumu?”

“Mh?”

Their voice is low, lazy and tired. It’s Sunday morning, and they’re lying in bed. There’s a gap between them, has been all night, actually, but it didn’t feel weird.

It was – nice, feeling them beside him.

Sakusa never slept better.

“Tsumu, can you do something for me?”, he asks, voice suddenly shaking.

They turn over to him, looking at him with drowsy eyes.

“Of course. What is it?”

It takes everything he’s got in him to say it, and even more to act like it isn’t a big deal.

“Touch me.”

Tsumu, suddenly staring at him with wide eyes, gulps visibly. They stare at him, before smiling a soft, lopsided smile, and extending a hand. Before they touch his hand, they ask: “Is this okay?”

Sakusa nods.

And as they lace their fingers with his, the burning sensation isn’t as bad as it was before.

In fact, it feels like something Sakusa can learn to live with, as long as he gets to be close to the one he loves.


End file.
